2013.05.28 - Strictly Professional
It only took two instances of getting the same strange business card - albeit from two different bartenders in two different hole in the wall bars - to set the alarm bells in Victor Creed's head to ringing; having endured more than his share of convoluted, complex systems of drops and secret codes and pass phrases in the course of making contact with shady people to do shadier work over the years, he's developed a nose for this sort of thing. Worst case scenario, by his reckoning: it's a trap, and he'll have to kill everyone involved; either way, not the worst way to spend some evening in the near future. For now, though: he has to check the lead, and so as he lounges in a marble tub at the heart of his Central Park penthouse, his dutiful(if not always /faithful/) assistant Birdy is cradling a burner phone to her ear as she sits on a stool a couple feet away. "Remember," he reminds her, pausing long enough to sink further into the bubbles with a throaty sigh, "whoever's on the other side, you greet 'em nice and friendly-like; you're representin' the best, here! I got a rep t' maintain." "Yes, Mr. Creed," Birdy exhales, turning her eyes to the ceiling as she listens to the dial tone. It's been a busy Memorial Day for Grodd. He launched a plan to eliminate Superman that he's been working on for years. It's miller time! Well, ok, it's 75 year old scotch time, but you get the idea. He lays on the couch in front of his TV catching up on the Walking Dead when the phone rings the distinct ring of the number that he gives out to minion. It's the Despicable me theme song, "Helloo!" he answers far, far too cheerfully for someone who just got 'defeated' by Superman on national TV. "This is General Grodd, who may I ask is calling?" the big gorilla says as he relaxes back onto his living room couch and pauses the TV. "Yeah, uh, hi, General Grodd." Birdy and Creed share a moment of eye contact that's broken when he abruptly splashes her with sudsy water then leans back to stare at the ceiling himself, howling with laughter while his dripping assistant sits rigid in her seat and tries not to betray her dismay. To her credit, she barely makes a peep when it happens--or afterwards; it takes her a few seconds to compose herself enough to continue, "I--hope you're havin' a pleasant evening," after which she slowly exhales and shakes some excess water from her free hand. "I'm calling on behalf of my client, codename Sabretooth? We received some /very/ interesting business cards the last couple of nights..." "Ah, yes, nice to hear from you. I was wondering if your client would be interested in a series of jobs I have lined up. I am afraid I have over booked myself. I just don't have the time to do all the things I need to get done. It'll be the usual fair, kidnapping, murder, bombings, some mutilation from time to time to remind people not to cross me. I'm thinking of assassinating some of the more vocal anti-mutant leaders." the usual stuff.. "Oh, and collecting DNA. I'll pay extra for samples of super-hero or villain DNA. You can never really have too many super-powers after all." he says casually like he's talking about hiring someone to paint his house or clean his pool. 'Kidnapping, murder...' Birdy mouths each sin off for Creed's benefit until she realizes that he's not bothering to look down from the ceiling to see what she's 'saying' to him. "Bombing's extra too," she evenly rattles off, rolling her eyes. She's actually more annoyed at herself for bothering to try and keep him in the loop than at Creed, whose keen ears are doing a fine enough job of that already. "Usually, we farm 'em out; if the price is right, though, we can make an exception. Customer satisfaction's our number one priority, after all! If you'll just give me a moment, I'll run the numbers and see about getting you a quote, alright?" If they were speaking in person, that last bit would undoubtedly be accompanied by the best fake smile Birdy could muster; since it's just her and Creed, though, she just straight-facedly leans forward and brings a clump of sodden hair around to squeeze some of the excess water out into the tub while eyeing Sabretooth, as if waiting for--something. Five seconds - and one narrowly missed play-swipe to warn Birdy away from screwing with his bath - later, it comes: a wordless thumbs-up. And then the quote comes, and it is, to say the least, a doozy. "That," she adds after the last digit, "would be a retainer; it sounds like we're talking long-term here, yeah?" Whatever it is she charges, it won't be enough. Creed is going to be sent after people who work for the competition to the companies that Grodd has money invested in. Whatever he pays creed he will get returned in investment multiple times over. that's the joy of being a manipulative evil overlord like Grodd. He can use the system against itself. Grodd waits patiently on the other end of the phone thinking that Creed's girl sounds cute. He bets she has pink hair. She sounds like one of those girls who dyes her hair. She's smart but she doesn't want people thinking she's smart so she makes herself look ditzy. That's the kind of girl Grodd pictures her ass. Young Madonna with pink hair, in a short skirt, a shorter top and carrying a pump action combat shotgun... Which is what happens when Grodd has too much time to think. Grodd says, "There is a house on Green and vine, a nice couple named the Freeman's live there. If you'll go to them and say that you are there to collect the apples they will give you a box that is hidden in inside their house. In the box will have a five hundred thousand in non-sequential bills as well as a layer of silver bullion in it." the Gorilla says, "Will that suffice?" he asks, "The first job is fairly simple. There is a man called Sebastian Shaw. He's leading an anti-mutant organization but I think he's hiding something. I want you to find out what that is. I think he's developing anti-mutant bio-weapons and that is something I just can't allow. So if you would be a dear and have your client suck out his eyes for me as a reminder that mutants have every right to live free that would be wonderful. Just don't mention my name. I'm trying to keep a low profile in the business world." "Sebastian Shaw?" Birdy repeats. "I'll--have to talk to him the next time he's in, but I don't thi--" "--yiii!" Birdy squeals when her boss suddenly surges from his bath and yanks the phone from her hand so forcefully that she nearly tumbles into the tub herself. "Long as you promise to keep the green flowin', bossman," Creed growls with a sharp, toothy smile, "I'll bronze 'em up an' you can have yerself a necklace; sound good?" After casting a quick glance down at Birdy - who promptly looks away to hide the withering scowl she's been holding on him from her spot on the bathroom floor - he tacks a throaty chuckle onto his gory promise. Also, a P.O. Box number; they've gotta stay in contact /somehow/, after all, and 'random bartenders in crappy bars' is not the most reliable communication medium. Grodd smiles on the other end of the phone and gives a chuckle, "Sounds wonderful. It'll be nice to work with someone who understands the value of clear communication." then the gorilla hangs up the phone and orders a pager sent to the PO Box. Grodd is old, what can he say? He likes reliable technology. Category:Log